


Remember you

by Rumo (Triteia)



Series: The Dragon Prince One Shots [1]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M, Mage, Memories, Runaan - Freeform, The dragon prince - Freeform, Tumblr Prompt, Viren - Freeform, tinker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 05:50:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16886826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triteia/pseuds/Rumo
Summary: This is the result of a tumblr prompt I recieved asking me to write a short story of Runaan thinking about Tinker while being imprisoned by Viren. The memories take him back in time.





	Remember you

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot is in no way matching the story-line I am going for in my other fic "Talents" and will diverse from those events.

The slight drip of water created an odd melody in the otherwise silent dungeon. Runaan closed his eyes and summoned all his willpower to imagine Xadian rain instead. After a while his already delirious mind completed the slow dripping with more sounds until he had created a full out monsoon in his imagination. He managed to loose himself fully in the memory of his home, relishing the diversion from his broken ribs and the throbbing in his arm.

Suddenly, a familiar figure appeared before his eyes, smiling at him with a spark of mischief and curiosity in his hazel gaze.   Tinker.

Until now, he had banned any thoughts about his beloved from his mind, not willing to think about what the other must be going through after realising he wouldn't return to him. Not this time.

The scene changed and he was now standing in the forge of Tinkers workshop. He could almost feel the warmth from the fire on his cold, sweaty skin. The smith had his back to him but turned once he noticed him standing there. Runaan knew this memory, it was the day he had received the Bowblade as a token of their bond. It was common around Xadians to give their significant other something crafted by them in their line of trade to show their commitment. His status as Assassin didn’t allow him to give something to his beloved since his loyalties were meant to be with Xadia and Xadia alone. But it was custom amongst warrior couples to tattoo each other their sign of arms and so they'd decided that Runaan gave him a tattoo instead. It was the sigil of his family, a crescent moon over trees together with his name in draconic.

The scene played out further and he could see his hands reaching for the extraordinary weapon, giving the blades a few test twirls before kissing his beloved as a thank you. Since that day eight years ago, he hadn't parted with it for a single mission. The double blades had been faithful companions through all that time, never once failing him.

Then the realization hit him that he would leave this world without anything to remember Tinker by. He had to use the moonstone amulet in the forest and the humans had taken all his weapons including the Bowblade. Now, he thought ruefully, the single most important of his possessions would gather dust in some storage room, or worse, be passed around human soldiers to use against his own kind. “I’m sorry my love.” He thought “I should have taken better care of it.”

The scene changed again and he was back at the academy. It was summer and he could feel warm sunshine on his bare skin. He was fighting one of the others. Training. A look at his bare arms told him it was before his promotion to general of the Squadron. Probably ten years ago since he lacked the rank tattoos that now ran down his arms.

He remembered that day. An unusual hot summer hence the lack of shirts among most of the fighters. It was their afternoon session and everyone was already drenched in sweat since their trainer had them doing exercise since the early morning not minding the humid weather. During a break his younger self saw a lone figure sitting on the grass next to the training pit, just short of the treeline. It was the incredibly cute elf that had just moved here recently. A smith and jewellery maker as Runaan had found out after a bit of investigating. His heart had been sold after he first laid eyes on the stranger as the smith delivered some training weapons to the academy. Since that day he was sometimes there, sitting hidden on the side with a battered sketchbook in his lap, surveying the fighters. The young Assassin concluded he probably sought inspiration for new weapon designs but had never actually seen what the other was sketching.

Just as he wanted to avert his gaze again, two of the younger recruits tried to steal his sketchbook from where the elf was now clutching it in front of his chest in an attempt to protect it. Anger flared inside him and he still felt the beginnings of hot rage after all those years. A few purposeful strides got him to the duo in a matter of seconds, immediately staring them down. Although only two years older than them, his reputation exceeded him and most elves in the Squadron knew nit to mess with their best combatant. “Leave him alone and pick on someone your own size. You are a disgrace for any moonshadow assassin.” His voice not more than a low growl. Those two however didn't seem to have gotten the memo and immediately tried to attack him. The first one realized his mistake as his back connected with the hard soil, his friend joining him in the dust a heartbeat later. He didn't even spare them a glance as he sat down beside the smith who was looking at him wide eyed and a little flustered. “Are you okay?” he asked, underlining the words with the matching hand signs. “Yes, thank you.” The other finally replied, inclining his head, hand over his heart. The old elven way to say thank you.  Runaan had to smile “No problem. I’m Runaan. You are new here right?” a nod in confirmation as he forced the copper hair out of his face for the sixth time “Yes I just opened my shop last month, my name is Tinker.”

After a moment of consideration, he finally took the risk “Would you like to meet up after training? For a cup of wine?”

He had to smile at the memory, in the end they hadn't made it to Inn after all because he was pulled behind a large tree for a kiss by a surprisingly strong smith. Tinker was in many ways braver than him.

More images flitted though his mind. Their first dance, a walk through the forest by moonshine, their first summer solstice celebration together where they had officially announced their bond to the world, how his beloved sometimes waited for him after training and the countless nights they shared in his bed, Tinķer counting the scars on his body.

But not only happy memories found their way into his mind, mixing themselves under the rest. The duels he fought because someone dared to question his capabilities as an assassin because of his relationship, that one time where Tinker nearly blew himself up in his workshop because of a foul barrel of black powder and he'd frantically searched for him in the remains of the house until he held the unconscious but otherwise unscathed elf in his arms. They had move in together after that seeing the smith's house was mostly destroyed safe for the forge and workshop which were built from heavy stone instead of wood.

Another image came rushing back, him on a bed in a plain room, covered with bandages. He didn't remember much of those days because the healers made sure to keep him drugged enough that he wouldn't move but he could never forget the look on his lover's face as he led his group back from a mission that cost them dearly. Almost all of his soldiers were wounded even though he had tried to shield them from the most of it. He faintly remembered walking back though the city gate and collapsing somewhere while ushering the youngest two of his group to the hospital.  Somehow Tinker had been there, catching him in his strong arms and apparently carrying him through most part of the city in record time to get him to the healers. Later they told him he had only survived barley, mostly thanks to his beloved who gave blood to keep him from bleeding out completely.

His heart ached at sight of his Tearful boyfriend, sitting next to his bed and clutching his hand as if he feared Runaan would slip away otherwise.

Only this time there was no coming back. No lucky safe from the death, no quick parry in the last second. He would die here in this cellar, either from hunger and thirst or the hand of the human mage.

The memories faded and all too soon he was back in the dungeon, chained to the wall by his wrists. Long ago had he lost feeling in his legs that were nestled under him so he wouldn't pull his arms out of their sockets due to the restraints.

The human in the other cell hummed a sad tune that sounded awfully lot like the song he'd heard human border patrols sing after the burial of a comrade. He, too didn't seem to have high hopes of escaping.

“I sorry my love.” He thought again “I didn't mean to leave you so soon.” Now as death was almost inevitable, he was glad he had wanted to wait with his proposal until after the mission. Elves mated for live and considered their bonds holy. This way Tinker was at least free to find someone else to spend the rest of his life with. Maybe even find some happiness after all.

In retrospect Runaan probably hadn't been the best partner. His job demanded a lot and he was sometimes gone for a month or longer where they couldn’t see each other. Also he couldn't possibly show affection in public since relationships of high ranking officers were generally frowned upon and he was only barley getting through with dating as it was. He was meant to have meaningless affairs to satisfy his needs and that was exactly what he had done before meeting Tinker. He changed after that. So much that he even considered resigning in favor of marrying his beloved. But he needed the fight, the thrill and adrenaline running through his veins as he silently perched on a rooftop before a hit. The smith knew that, too and never once tried to get him to stay even though he despised of violence. Tinker was decent fighter but chose the life of a pacifist. What an unlike duo they were. A small laugh escaped him as he thought about all the gossip about the two of the among the other elves. It sounded hoarse and really unhealthy. That's what one got for refusing food and drink.

He summoned all the magical energy left in his battered body, even drawing some from the binding on his bicep that tightened even further in response. In that moment Runaan couldn't care less. His folk possessed the ability of sending thoughts to people they shared a bond with even over far distances. His magic had never been particularly good, just sufficient for the simple spells he needed as an Assassin. He had always been more of a hands on guy. Tink’s was strong though and would probably do most of the work once the message was sent.

He concentrated as much as the pain and sleep deprivation allowed and pulled together every last bit of energy left in him. “Forgive me my moonlight. I love you.” Shortly after, the by now familiar scratching of stone announced the return of the human mage. Runaan closed his eyes, steeling himself for what was to come.

 

In a Xadian city, a copper haired elf suddenly collapsed on his knees in the middle of a busy street, sobbing. The last note of his beloved's message echoed through his head, replaying it self over and over again.

A couple of hours later, the same elf was hurriedly packing travelling gear and a long sturdy spear he hadn't used since dropping out of the Xadian forces. “I'm coming for you, love.” He promised, praying over and over that he wouldn't be too late.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any more ideas for prompts head over to my tumblr (rumowrites) and send an ask. I may not have the time to do all of them but who knows right?  
> Anyways thank you for reading and please leave kudos if you enjoyed it! Constructive criticism is always welcome since I am currently without beta and I am sure mistakes were made.  
> Rumo


End file.
